


Loca

by inkfiction



Series: Bleighton prompts [2]
Category: Gossip Girl RPF
Genre: Archiving previous works, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-12
Updated: 2012-04-12
Packaged: 2019-02-08 19:10:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12871143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkfiction/pseuds/inkfiction
Summary: She’s crazy, absolutely, gorgeously crazy and that’s exactly how you like it. Blake POV.





	Loca

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is purely fictional, I own none of these very real people.

Coming out of the shower, and an exotic sight meets your eyes. She has somehow managed to obtain a cowboy hat which looks a lot like—

“Chace’s prize cowboy hat?! Really, Leight, have you lost your mind? He’s gonna kill you when he finds out you’ve stolen it from his trailer, it’s his pride and joy!”

“Hey, hey,” she looks at you and the twinkle in her eyes, the smile on her lips is decidedly wicked. “Watch your words. I just — borrowed it — for some time. I’ll give it back to him.” She smiles widely as she loses her sheer silk robe, revealing black silk — under ** _scraps_** , you cannot call them undergarments — and traipses the short length of the trailer sleeping area towards you. “Or what’s left of it, anyway.”

And there’s that wicked smirk again, and, oh, you can already feel a dozen horses or so gallop somewhere low inside your abdominal area. The water from your wet hair runs in a lazy trickle down your spine, making you shiver. At least that’s what you tell yourself, that it’s got nothing to do with the brunette wearing the cowboy hat and not much else. And then she has the audacity to tilt the hat down on her face, put a wet-dream inducing smirk on her lips, jut out her hips — those strategically placed scraps of black silk gleam evilly in the dim yellow-gold light of the trailer’s lamps, beckoning — and say in an over-worked southern drawl—

“How do I look in it?”

It’s enough to snap a saint’s patience, and you’re merely human. So when you say, “Come here, and I’ll tell you,” your throat is kinda dry, your voice sorta rough, your pulse beating irregularly, impatiently in your throat, throbbing in between your legs.

Her smile widens and she lets out a delighted laugh as she closes the short distance between the two of you.

“I thought you’d never ask—”

You shut her up with a kiss that makes her moan into your mouth, even as she tugs at the towel wrapped around your body.

Chace is going to kill the two of you. She’s crazy, absolutely, gorgeously crazy and that’s exactly how you like it.


End file.
